Hard Things, Part One

One of the hardest things to do in a wheelchair is...

Put on pantyhose.

Finding Me

I volunteer. A lot. Mostly, it involves my son's activities, school and swimming.

But, I feel like I should do more. Yes, I also need to be looking for a new job, but I want to volunteer more, too. Something for me.

So, I am doing some soul searching (and job hunting). Any ideas would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks all!

Heart Heavy

I am not a helicopter parent, by any means. Sure, I volunteer A LOT at my son's school. And I am always present when he is active in sports (served on his swimteam board, always go to practices, and meets). However, I usually steer clear from him during these activities. I want him to enjoy his independence, while I keep a watchful eye from the sidelines.

When he was younger, I would always ask his teachers if I could go in to his classroom and speak to the class. I would start off by reading It's Okay To Be Different (by the amazing Todd Parr). It's an awesome book that talks all about diversity and acceptance, while being both serious and silly (it's okay to have two moms vs. it's okay to eat macaroni and cheese in the bathtub). After reading the book, I would briefly explain WHY I am in a wheelchair. I would let the kids ask questions (can I drive? Can I go grocery shopping?). And then, the very best part -- I would allow the kiddos to take turns riding around in an old wheelchair down the empty school hallway. They always loved it.

I did it because I wanted them to understand why I was in a wheelchair. But, deep down inside, I had a hidden agenda. I did it because I never, ever wanted Mason to be made fun of for having a mommy in a wheelchair. It always worked well. Especially since I always was at the school -- the kids got to know me and realize that I'm capable of many things.

However, when Mason was in third grade (at a new school), I decided I should stop giving the little "talks" to his peers. He was done with "baby books" and I knew I couldn't hold his hand all of his life, to make things easier. He has a mother that has a spinal cord injury that causes her to be in a wheelchair. Just like some kids have parents who are divorced. It was just part of our family dynamic. WE accepted it.

That being said, at school that year, I was still actively involved. We spent a lot of the summer before at the neighborhood pool, ensuring he met some kids before he started his first day of school. Kids asked why I was in a wheelchair. All kids ask. It's a way of life. I helped with Mason's Destination Imagination group. I was a presence at his school. I didn't need the book. He never was teased because of my disability.

Today, there was an incident. He is almost thirteen years old and in seventh grade. Long gone are the days where picture books can explain things. I don't know how well he handled it. I only found out about it right before he went to bed.

But, it caused my heart to hurt for my little guy. He can't help that I am his mother no more than I can help being in a wheelchair. This is a part of our lives... but that never makes the sting hurt any less.

I just hope there is a day where it really IS okay to be different...

Staying Put

A few months ago, my husband took a job with a very "Magical" company that was the perfect fit for our family. We love going to the Most Magical Place on Earth, so working for that same company? Had to be magical and... kismet. Which it was. We got free passes and discounts. My husband was spoiled with all sorts of wonderfully free merchandise. It was perfect.

Except... it really wasn't. We were supposed to move away from our beloved Austin, Texas, where we have lived for over four years to South Florida. While I always wanted to live in Florida, I never really wanted to move to Miami/Ft. Lauderdale/Boca Raton.

It got really depressing, searching realtor.com every day, looking for the perfect house. For us, the perfect house has always been one that we built. So, moving into one that could possibly be older than we were would be a new adventure, right? Well... it could be... if any of the houses weren't still stuck in the 80s. Seriously, we were going to move into the Golden Girls house... but without Rose to make fun of.

My husband traveled. A lot. And one weekend, I joined him in South Florida. We had met an AMAZING real estate agent (seriously -- if you know of someone moving there, I'll share her information -- she was a gem!), had some amazing sea food, and realized that what we thought were mojitos are NOTHING compared with what they make in Miami!!! We toured plenty of houses. Some seemed like if we squinted really hard, we could see their potential. Who cares if there was a loch ness monster living in the pool and that the air conditioner was archaic? It had character.

We had made the decision NOT to place an offer on a house in Florida until we sold our house here. Which still hasn't happened, almost 150 days later. We spent the entire summer making our beds, leaving the house in picture-perfect-viewing-ready condition. Which wasn't necessarily easy when we had a plethora of swim meets that started at 6:00am.

Then, my husband, who is freakishly healthy, got sick with walking pneumonia. Somewhere between Puerto Rico and Miami. And he couldn't come home straight away. When he did arrive, he looked dead. It was awful. That started the revelation that neither one of us were getting much sleep. Through out the night, I'd bolt up, out of bed, with a new concern about The Move.

And we never really got a chance to talk about it until three weeks before we were all supposed to move six states away (I counted Texas twice, since it's so darn big!). We had originally planned on him moving down without us, until our house sold. A mortgage and a rent wouldn't be ideal, but we could make it work. Except he was traveling all of the time with work, that visiting him would be next to impossible. So, we decided to just ALL move down and rent, while our home sat, waiting for it's new owners to fall in love with it.

I found a nice rental property. We bought our son his uniform for his new school. He read all of the books on that school's summer reading list. Then, we couldn't move into that rental. So, we found another rental, different school, different uniform colors, different reading list. The poor 12 year old spent most of his afternoons reading these books in order to have time to finish the reports on them.

Two weeks before The Big Move, my husband and I talked for a long time. We both had been keeping quiet about our own anxieties and worries concerning the move. The company was Great! and Magical! And we had FREE TICKETS!!!! However, we would move to Miami and he would be flying all over the country (including our US territories!). We missed each other. We missed being our family. Suddenly, it wasn't that magical of a job.

Luckily, a new job fell into place. Right after we had said most of our goodbyes and, more importantly, packed away our blender, this amazing opportunity arose. With NO travel (something we haven't experienced in 4 years!). IN Austin. We wouldn't HAVE to say goodbye. We wouldn't HAVE to spend $100,000 on renovations to bring a sad, old house modern conveniences like having a SINK in the BATHROOM.

So, he accepted it. And we shared the wonderful news that we were going to stay here with everyone. And we slowly unpacked the blender. We still remain living in a house full of moving boxes because we still wish to sell our house and move into a new, bigger one (my mom moved in with us last December, so we need more room). He started his job this week and I see a new side to this man that I fell in love with so many years ago. He's happy again. And everything is stable, because we KNOW where he will be in the next week.

We are staying put. And we couldn't be happier.